


When he died

by Demetria_0620



Series: Uchiha Tobirama AU (Clan Swap!) [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Clan Swap, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Madara is a Senju, Tobirama is an Uchiha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 23:28:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16438889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demetria_0620/pseuds/Demetria_0620
Summary: So, Tobirama died.Everyone reacted differently.(Sort of a half-assed one shot sequel for Curse of Hatred. You might want to read that one first.)





	When he died

**Author's Note:**

> My drunk ass posted this once and deleted it an hour later...And I didn't save the copy from the first upload. Parts of this has to be rewritten, so for anyone who read it for the second time, it is not hundred percent the same. Anyhow, here is a reupload. Enjoy.

 

 

Tobirama has lived a long satisfying life.

He wished to embrace eternity.

 

* * *

 

For a man whose life was tainted with blood and pain from the day of his birth, Tobirama lived an extremely long happy and fulfilling life.

He outlived his younger brother and sister-in-law by a good half a century. He outlived his brother-in-law, who was hailed as the God of Shinobi, by a few decades. He outlived his other sister-in-law, who possessed the Uzumaki’s insanely long lifespan, by fifteen years. He outlived some of his own descendants, those who were unfortunate enough to die at such a young age when he failed to protect them.

He outlived his own husband—his lover, his soulmate, his cherished other half—by a good decade.

Uchiha Tobirama was reaching his 150th birthday when he saw the glimpses of those who have left him.

And he welcomed them with a longing smile.

 

* * *

 

Shikamaru has an old soul.

He liked to watch clouds when children his age ran under the clouds and play stupid games. He liked soaking in hot springs when children his age rather spent their time playing tag by the river. He liked to play shogi—alone, most of the time—when children his age scowled at the boring game and chose the more colourful and fun board games. 

Children his age found best friends among their same-aged peers.

Nara Shikamaru found a best friend in the old man in the park.

To Konoha, his best friend was a legend, famed as a Demon and a Father—the one who shaped Konoha into this glorious powerful nation—a walking legend from the Shinobi History.

To Shikamaru, the former Nidaime was simply _jiichan_ and there would come the day that Shikamaru would triumph over the old man in shogi.

"Checkmate."

The smug hum was accompanied with a perfect line of teeth displayed in a playful grin.

Shikamaru resisted the childish urge to flip the board. Despite being infamously recognised as the man who _always_ melted and yielded to children’s unreasonable demands, Uchiha Tobirama has no mercy when playing shogi with his young friend. It was their seventh game this morning and Shikamaru could not even score one lucky win against the Nidaime.

It was kinda expected but still…

Shikamaru pouted

The smug fiery cat on the Nidaime’s lap purred, as if laughing at the five-year-old boy

“Unbelievable.”

That comment came in the form of a low grumble. The deep voice was right behind Shikamaru, causing the Nara heir to hold back a shriek when all of sudden another legend leant over his shoulder, sharp dark eyes of Senju Madara eyed the pieces on the board with such calculative look which instantly reminded the boy that these men were _the_ founders of Konoha.

The Nidaime’s eyes lit up upon that comment.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” he hummed, running his wrinkled strong hand through the blue flame of the cat. “Pure talent."

Shikamaru glanced to the side and saw a fierce grin on Madara’s face.

Then, the man’s aged hand landed on his head, patting his head in a grudging approval.

“You’ll be perfect.”

At that time, five-years-old Shikamaru has no idea what the legendary Senju was talking about

But he has an inkling that it would change his life.

 

* * *

 

And change it did. 

Shikamaru finally found a best friend of his age that was not of the Akimichi or Yamanaka. Chouji has always been more than his best friend, considering that their clans were interconnected long before they joined Konoha—the large boy was more of a brother to Shikamaru than a friend.

Throughout his childhood, Shikamaru always thought of Chouji as his brother from different parents, Ino as his extremely annoying and probably-need-to-be-disowned sister and the legendary Nidaime as his best friend.

Then, Senju Madara made that comment.

At the age of 7, when his peers just started official shinobi lesson at the academy, Shikamaru gained his first master as the legendary Senju took him under his wing.

For a boy who spent his time watching the clouds or swearing at the laughing Nidaime as he again lost their daily match, Shikamaru’s life made a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn.

It was _hell._ His training time was hell because mercy did not exist in Madara’s dictionary.

Back during his era as the Nidaime Kage, the Senju was infamous for toying with his ANBU’s psychology, turning them all to the highly-resistant elite that was impossible to crack even under the most dire pressure.

If Lady Mito’s ANBU was infamous for their medical ninjutsu, Senju Madara’s ANBU was infamous for their uncrackable mental fortress. They could be roasted alive on a pit with poisoned senbon skewering them from all directions possible and not one of the ANBU would open their mouth to betray Konoha.

The old man relinquished the joy of his ruling era by _training_ Shikamaru.

The former Kage took over Shikamaru’s training time from a very relieved Shikaku the moment the boy started his official classes in the academy. He honed Shikamaru’s leadership and intelligence, manipulating the experience of his decades as the Kage to shape the boy to a terrifying elite strategist.

Having spent his training time with Senju Madara and a good portion of his lazy playtime having shogi matches against Uchiha Tobirama—Shikamaru knew that he wasn’t going to keep his dead-last status in the academy.

By the time Madara allowed Shikamaru to graduate from his care, the boy was far too dangerous as a strategist, already earning his A-rank status among bounty hunters at the age of 12.

Though, despite his rank in the Bingo Book, Shikamaru didn’t feel like his childhood was stolen from him at all.

Like all the previous apprentices, Shikamaru was still free to experience the same childhood as his friends. He occasionally played tag with his academy peers, watched the clouds with Chouji, spent his afternoons attempting to defeat the Nidaime in shogi and when it’s time to officially graduate from the academy—he was assigned into the same team as his siblings (from different clans).

After all, the experience of healthy comradeship in a genin team was an obligation to all Hokage and Kage apprentices.

Thus, Shikamaru was then entrusted to the care of Hiruzen’s son, as Madara trusted no one else but Sarutobi Asuma to protect the boy and train his fighting skills until it was up to par with his highly-developed mind.

At the age of 12, Shikamaru was already a trained elite strategist with a set program to pave his path to becoming a legend of his era.

Despite that, Shikamaru thought his best achievement was that he was finally able to force the genius Nidaime to take him seriously during their daily shogi match.

He still couldn’t beat that old man, but he was heading there.

Along the way of his years as Madara’s apprentice, he was properly introduced and acquainted to the Yondaime’s son. Considering that Naruto suffered the equally heavy training as Hokage apprentice, both boys clicked almost instantly as they lamented over their harsh training and cruel masters.

Namikaze Naruto became his best friend.

And wherever Namikaze Naruto went, the Suna's prince would be there. The two jinchuuriki has mastered Hiraishin so that they could always remain in contact with each other. Sometimes Gaara would randomly drop in Konoha to say ‘hi' and charm the daughter of the dango stall's owner (he was a surprisingly smooth flirt, much to everyone’s horror and amusement) while other times, Naruto would randomly drag Shikamaru to Suna to harass Gaara’s elder siblings and pranked the unsuspecting up-tight council of Sunagakure.

Yondaime Kazekage pointedly turned a blind eye to their shenanigans.

Shikamaru had a distinct hunch that the Kazekage got off on the pure frustration his council suffered over his son and Naruto’s pranks. The man was overly lenient with them all.

Needless to say, Shikamaru became best friends with his future brother-in-law first before he was introduced to his future wife.

Sometimes Shikamaru would sit back and wonder how much of these surprising events in his life he owed to the devious Nidaime Hokage and Kage. If Senju Madara didn't recognise Shikamaru's potential as fearsome commander and strategist, would he end up befriending Naruto and Gaara? Would he have his own room in the Kazekage's manor as he did now? Would he spend all those precious short breaks he had playing games with Gaara and Naruto until dawn breaks? Would he meet Temari and suffer the awkward pre-teens crush over the older girl? Would he be here, a diplomat between Suna and Konoha, as he counted the days before he took the cloak from Tobirama Shisui and shouldered the leadership of Konoha alongside his blonde best friend?

It was unlikely.

He owed those old men way too much.

Thus, back then, when he was just a fresh jounin and recently engaged to Temari, he reacted instantly when he received the news.

Naruto has crashed his breakfast that bright peaceful morning, fresh tears streaking his cheeks as the crying blonde came to deliver the news that Shikamaru’s first master has passed away in his sleep, leaving his husband alone as the only founder that was still alive in Konoha.

Shikamaru didn’t delay in organising support system for his ancient friend.

There was no way in hell he was going to leave his jiichan alone after that loss.

The Nara clan is fiercely loyal to their friends after all.

 

* * *

 

After Madara passed away, _they_ never left him alone. 

‘They’, as in the children that he has come to recognise as his own—which by this point meant Konoha as a whole.

It didn’t matter from which clan they were, Tobirama considered them all as his. He was the remaining founders that were still breathing among the young generations, making him the patriarch of Konoha. Perhaps it was because of the purring bijuu inside him, or this was the actual lifespan of a shinobi who were not killed in their youth, but Tobirama was present when the very first foundation of Konoha was laid by the hands of his dearly departed brother-in-law.

He was present to witness the changes that happened in Konoha too.

This village grew right in front of his eyes.

He watched the foundation that Hashirama laid being strengthened upon the discoveries by the new generation. He watched the small village that was initially composed of Uchiha and Senju grew to become this highly integrated diverse _nation_ as more clans came pouring in to claim Konoha’s crest as the symbol they pledged their loyalty at. He watched the children that he raised back during the era of war grew to become parents of their own spawns, enlarging the clan they built in his honour with colourful threads of talents and love. He watched his children grew old, embracing the horror of parenthood with a graceful stride and made him proud as they survived to have grandchildren of their own. He was present when the first international marriage between two major Hidden Village happened and was given the honour of marrying his young friend with the princess of Sunagakure.

He has lived for a long time, a breathing legend among the living, that by this point of Konoha’s history—when they’re about to appoint the Rokudaime Hokage and Kage—the whole village has considered him as their father.

The once feared demon of the Warring Era was now a beloved father of Konoha.

Thus, he appreciated their care and concern when none of them ever left him on his own ever since he woke up next to the cold peaceful husk of his husband. The citizens of Konoha took turns accompanying him, and when the adults were busy with their obligations, it was the children who kept him company, preventing him from inching to the slightest pit of depression after the passing of his husband.

He mourned his beloved, yet Konoha didn't allow him to slip to anything beyond that.

But sometimes, he indulged in the memories despite the distraction they provided. It was the last memory he had with his husband after all.

Madara has kissed him so passionately that night—a reminisce of the enthusiasm and desperation of their youth—acting as if he _knew_ that they will go to bed together but one of them was going to wake up alone.

Not that it was any surprise.

Madara was significantly weaker prior to his passing. The Senju has submitted to the brunt of his impossibly long age, unlike Tobirama who was still going strong with Matatabi supporting him from inside. The legendary Senju has spent more time curled up in Tobirama’s embrace, nodding off to sleep even when it was not his normal afternoon naptime. Madara has spent less time grumbling to Naruto’s loud chatters, even when the young man dissolved to the little childishness he still clung to. Madara didn’t berate the blonde man at all, even when their supposedly adult great-grandson acted so childishly as if he was not already a father of two. Instead, his beloved husband has spent those days fondly smiling at their blonde great-grandson, wrinkled hands threading through the dark locks of baby Himawari and little Shikadai that were snoring in his lap.

Now, a decade later, Tobirama understood how Madara felt.

He felt _old._  

Which was a funny thing to think about, since Tobirama was beyond old at this point.

He was _ancient_.

And now, as he caught the glimpses of the loving smirk he has missed since the past decade, Tobirama felt less aware of the little girl that was babbling on his lap nor did he pay any attention to the frowning boy in front of him. Himawari’s happy chatters dissolved to senseless noise while the grudging mumbles of stressed-out Shikadai faded to nothingness.

They felt like a dream—these children that were accompanying him—while the silhouette of his smiling husband become clearer and felt more like a reality.

Tobirama has almost forgotten how breath-taking Madara was with his long dark mane, obsidian eyes sharp and alert while that stupid smirk curled on that smug handsome face.

Madara mouthed something.

Tobirama couldn’t hear him.

Shikadai slammed a knight piece onto the board, snapping the former Nidaime’s attention towards their almost forgotten game. The boy smirked, crossing his arms over his chest so unlike his calm father—it came from the mother, Tobirama thought with a fond smile, remembering that one time Temari tried to challenge him for a game—as he eyed the old man with a challenge in his eyes.

Tobirama moved a piece.

Shikadai yowled in frustration.

And there was a fond laughter that Tobirama has missed so much ringing through the still air.

 

* * *

 

 **_“You know he is not going to live forever.”_ ** ****

Naruto gritted his teeth, fists clenched tight as he kept his gaze on the rippling water beneath his feet, attempting to deny the obvious.

It was _unfair_.

Here he was, counting the days to the day he would inherit the hat from Itachi and he wanted his cherished family to be there with him on the happy day yet—

It was hard to be happy when he knew that his beloved great-grandfather was going to leave them all.

The bijuu could feel it—their sister was dissolving into a mournful grief upon the impending death of her jinchuuriki.

And when the bijuu knew, the jinchuuriki naturally knew because the only thing that will separate Kurama and Naruto, or Shukaku and Gaara, or Isobu and Rin, was the finality of death. They were all so close to each other that there were no secrets between them.

 ** _“Human’s life is so short,”_** Kurama hummed, stretching his massive head to nuzzle his nose to Naruto’s back in what it felt like a comforting gesture. **_“It is a rite of life.”_**

Naruto resisted the urge to snort. If anything, his great-grandfather has lived an extremely long time—even by shinobi’s standard—that it was easy to forget that the man was a human too and death would soon embrace him.

“I’m going to miss him,” Naruto murmured, wiping his tears with his sleeves, yielding to Kurama’s unspoken offer when the massive fluffy tails curled around him.

The rumbling purr that tore from Kurama’s throat stuttered brokenly.                                      

**_“We all will, Naruto.”_ **

 

* * *

 

“The old man is slipping, isn’t he?”

Kakashi stuttered to a stop, earning a confused look from the previously giggling toddler in his arms. The child scrunched up his forehead, probably wondering why his father suddenly stopped making those funny faces as one chubby small hand reached up to pat the mole on his chin. There was a toothless gurgle that escaped the child’s lips, as if the tiny babe wanted to comfort his father, and Kakashi immediately forced a smile to the frowning child.

“He is old,” the silver-haired murmured off-handedly, feigning indifference. “It’s expected.”

Deep inside, he was mourning for the inevitable. His own grandmother was stern with him—Hatake Sakuno was the best example of unyielding steel spine of Hatake’s women—but his dear granduncle has always spoiled him rotten.

Granduncle Tobirama was Kakashi’s favourite, despite what he tells his own grandmother.

“Konoha will mourn.”

Kakashi’s breath hitched in his throat.

The silver-haired ANBU didn’t dare to look at his husband, despite the soft whine of his daughter that usually triggered his paternal instinct to curl protectively around her. Obito has always been able to read him like an open book, while their daughter has always been sensitive to their emotions, thus Kakashi’s inner turmoil would be open to display.

What worse was that he didn’t want to see his own emotions on his daughter’s face.

If it wasn’t because of the seals they have to slap on her skin every day, she wouldn’t have her own emotions at all as she tuned into her fathers’ emotions, mimicking their mood as her own.

It was to be expected. With Hatake’s natural sensory ability, the blood relation she had with the strongest sensor in history, and the unnatural process that brought her to this world with _both_ her fathers’ genetic—the Senju, Uchiha and Uzumaki bloodline from Obito and Hatake bloodline from Kakashi—no one was actually surprised when the little girl started showing signs of being a formidable sensor.

Kakashi risked a glance to the little girl that was curled up on Obito’s chest, only to instantly wince when the child’s face scrunched up to a deep frown that matched the frown that was on her dark-haired father’s face. It was about time they re-apply the seal, but Rinne was being particularly stubborn today, acting so slippery that even her ANBU S-ranked fathers could not catch her without resorting to pure violence.

Of course, they ended up giving up to her whims—their little princess she was. Kakashi and Obito would mutually slit each other’s throat before they would even think of being violent to the child they finally dared to have.

The little girl only agreed to settle down for their afternoon family time when both Obito and Kakashi have verbally promised that there would be no seal-applying happening.

“Obito,” Kakashi said, voice stern and thick with warning. “Your emotions.”

Obito’s mismatched gaze fell to the frowning girl on his chest and his mouth opened to swear but he quickly bit the words back into his throat when Kakashi’s glare narrowed on him. Right, no swearing in front of their four-year-old child—despite the uselessness of such rule, considering that Shisui has no filter whatsoever around his little niece. Their daughter was a menace because of the Godaime Kage’s unhealthy influence.

Then, Obito yelped when there was a slap across his face from that small chubby hands.

“Rinne-chan!” Obito yowled, unnecessarily whiny, but upon meeting the unamused gaze of the deep ruby eyes of his daughter, he promptly sobered up. “Rinne-chan?”

“No mask,” the child mumbled, shifting so that she was straddling her father’s chest. “No ANBU. You sad. Papa sad too,” she frowned, turning her gaze towards Kakashi and her little brother, ruby gaze landing slightly off to her father’s ears. “I want to feel,” she scrunched up her nose, and Kakashi was almost horrified at the way her expression shifted to match Obito’s bewildered frown. “None of this bullshit. Bad.”

Kakashi and Obito had to wonder which one of their daughter’s many godparents that were involved with her unfitting vocabulary.

Their top suspect was Shisui. Or Rin. Maybe Anko. Probably her grandfathers too, since Kakashi won’t put anything past Orochimaru and Sakumo.

“Keeping everything bottled up inside is a pain in the ass,” she hummed, patting Obito’s chest lightly. 

Shisui.

“No acting like brats. No Jerkbito. No Bakashi. No stupid.”

Yep. Definitely Shisui.

Obito was going to eviscerate that brat—treachery against the Kage be damned.

Kakashi sighed, tucking his gurgling son into a one-arm cradle so that he could crawl closer to his husband. He flopped to a sprawl with his head resting on Obito’s well-defined abs, bouncing his babbling son a few times before he cradled the giggling babe to his chest. It wasn’t long before Obito nudged him up with the child-like persistence so unfitting of his age—an insufferable dork he was, even in their forties—until Kakashi was tucked securely in the curl of his arm with his nose buried in Obito’s neck and their children curled atop their tangled bodies.

The Tobirama clan's infamous cuddle pile tradition has become their little family’s bonding method because Kakashi was so tuned into scents and Obito _needed_ to feel the warmth of his family before he could relax.

That close call with the bastard who tried to kidnap their daughter had them to be impossibly clingy to each other.

Obito cradled his family as close as bodily possible, earning a surprised squeal from Rinne and a happy gurgle from Tobi. Kakashi huffed an amused laugh even when he indulged his own desperate needs to feel his family, inhaling deeply on Obito's throat while rubbing his hands all over the tangled bodies of their little family until he could smell his scent on his children and husband.

He once feared to have _this_ —because between him and Obito, the S-rank stamped in their page in the Bingo Book and the blood relations they have to the founders of Konoha, they were never short on enemies—but now that he has his own little bundles of joy, Kakashi would not let anyone take his family from him.

 _His._ He might be the eldest heir to the Hatake clan, but _this_ , this little family he made—it was his.

Rinne reached out her hands to their foreheads—the surge of chakra they both felt was _insane_ despite how young and untrained she was—but they allowed her to indulge in her untrained skills, feeling her tentative chakra wrapped around their bodies, strong and powerful like sharp ozone wrapped in fiery flame.

It worked wonders on their tensed paranoia because Rinne’s chakra was so strong and powerful it made them both felt oddly _safe_.

Both Obito and Kakashi swallowed, remembering the familiar chakra that used to give them the same sense of safety during their childhood, back then whenever they were left in their elders’ care as their parents went out on a mission. Looking up to the little girl that was straddling their tangled bodies, it was hard to not notice the resemblance—the deep ruby eyes framed by short spiky silver hair made it difficult to not imagine that this might how their beloved elder looked like when he was a child.

That thought put a lump in both ANBU’s throats, as both men thought of the impending passing of their favourite elder. Sure, it might be about time, considering how old Tobirama was, but—

—goodbye was _always_ difficult, no matter how expected it was.

Rinne’s soft hands travelled down to their cheeks, patting the damp streak on their skin with soothing understanding so unfitting of a child her age.

Fuck. When have they both started crying?

Rinne quirked a tiny smile despite the tears that dripped down her cheeks, already mimicking her fathers’ emotions as she wrapped her slender arms around their necks, almost strangling them both by the sheer force of her clinginess.

“S’okay, Daddy. Papa,” she murmured, breath warm against the skin their throats. “No more mask. _Let go_.”

Kakashi let out a muffled cry while a choked sob tore from Obito’s throat as they curled against the grounding hold of their daughter. Their stoic mask falling to pieces as they clung to the soothing comfort her presence offered. 

Rinne held them, keeping her fathers from falling apart.

 

* * *

 

“If this is the sign of senility, I rather enjoy it.”

There was an amused snort, and Tobirama's breath came out in a hitched exhale as he felt the barely noticeable presence leaning against his side. He resisted the urge to glance to his side where he could feel the slightly cool air that was resting on his shoulder, worried that Madara might disappear like it was a few weeks ago despite the increasing contact the ghost of his husband has been showering him with.

He still couldn’t hear Madara’s voice, but his husband’s presence has become even more prominent, so _real_ that Tobirama almost believed that he no longer went to sleep alone. Madara has never left his side ever since his apparition solidified a week ago—soft loving smile and deep obsidian gaze greeted Tobirama every morning as he felt the cool touch of the ghost on his skin—and Tobirama has to wonder if this meant that the gap between him and death was so near that the distinction between the two no longer exist to him.

Then, he started seeing Izuna and Hashirama.

First, he only saw them as glimpses in his peripherals—never as clear and visible as Madara—but weeks passed and they started to become more prominent. It took effort to not call out for them when they both shared a fondly exasperated look as Madara kissed his cheek. He couldn’t hear their voices, despite the achingly familiar way Hashirama threw his head back mid-laughter, but he knew that the teasing were there, if the familiar angry tint of red on Madara’s face was any indicator.

His brothers never passed up the chances to fluster his husband after all.

It didn’t take as long before the glowing silhouettes of Mito and Reiko joined his brothers. Both of his sisters-in-law exchanged a similar foxy smirk before they reached out to their respective husband, pulling Izuna and Hashirama by the ear as they shimmered into the empty air, living him alone with Madara’s ghost.

It earned a chortled amused laugh from the former Nidaime.

Shikamaru and Naruto often exchanged a worried glance whenever they caught him laughing out of the blue, but would you blame him?

Even in the afterlife, his brothers were so _whipped_.

Weeks passed before Tobirama saw another apparition.

He has woken up one day to the face of pouty Madara as the ghost of his husband sulked near his thighs. Tobirama would have teased him, if he wasn’t distracted with the feelings of slender cool fingers that were threading through his hair. A quick tilt of his head earned him the first tears he shed ever since Madara’s death. He choked for words, fresh tears dripped down the ridges of his age but—

—he couldn’t tear his gaze from the loving dark eyes of his mother.

She smiled at him, peppering his wrinkled face with kisses before she retreated and mouthed something that he could not hear—still separated by the barrier of life and death. And he mourned that, cursed the fact that he was still stuck in this side of the world, unable to reach out to the people he loved because they were separated with the barrier of life and death. She retreated slightly to the side then, and Tobirama barely had the chance to reach out to her ghost when he was stopped short mid-moving.

The kiss upon his forehead felt like the fleeting breeze, but Tajima’s eyes were clear and loving that it almost felt so real.

Tajima mouthed something too.

This time, Tobirama understood.

They were waiting. Tobirama knew that his family was waiting for him on the other side.

Tobirama felt the anticipation building up.

He _wanted_ to die.

In the present time, he said that out loud.

Madara shifted from his curl against Tobirama’s shoulder, and all of sudden Tobirama was greeted with sharp dark eyes and youthful face of his husband millimetres from his own face as the ghost straddled his lap, their noses almost touching. The weightless hands that were fisting his hair felt so real it caused wanting tears to prick on his eyes.

Madara’s thumb felt oddly solid against his skin when he wiped the tears away.

“Soon,” that voice rang clear in Tobirama’s ear, strong and confident so like when the man was alive— 

—and the lips that claimed his own felt impossibly real too.

 

* * *

 

Minato was _drunk_.

“It is easy to forget, you know?” he murmured, glazed eyes fell upon his cup. “He has always been there that it’s easy to forget that he is a human.”

Kushina would kill him for drinking like this—when his liver was no longer as adapt to contain the excessive alcohol like it was during his youth—but his son’s spiralling mood, his godson’s stoic solemnity and his former student’s sad fleeting glance that was directed to his grandfather has confirmed his worries.

Uchiha Tobirama would soon leave them all.

There was a squeeze on his shoulder—Chouza’s hand, judging from the size—and Minato whimpered to his arms, no longer caring about his dignity as the former Hokage. These were his friends, and it wasn’t like this group of solemn mourning men hasn’t seen him at his most embarrassing moments, considering that Chouza, Inoichi, Shikaku, Fugaku and Shibi were all the amused and willing wingmen that always back him up when he needed it.

That one visit to Uzushio where he decided wooing Kushina was worth Kagami’s wrath was proof enough of their friendship. He has wonderful friends that were willing to risk the wrath of the Sandaime for the sake of showing support to his love life.

Hey, he was _twenty_  and was just an apprentice back then, okay? Let the actual Hokage suffered in the boring meeting. He has a pretty red-head that he wanted to woo so that she would happily punch him in the face.

His dear grandfather has flat-out _laughed_ when Kagami physically dragged Minato home by his collar. The Sandaime was still seething in (understandable and perfectly justified) frustration even when the trip went better than expected as Kushina decided to claim Minato, thus re-strengthening the bond between Uzushio and Konoha.

_“Definitely your grandson,” Tobirama has murmured to the baffled Madara, still laughing as he gracefully accepted Minato from Kagami’s annoyed hold. “Adorably romantic dork.”_

_“I am not—” Madara has spluttered, flushing so brightly._

_"You abandoned duties for love," Tobirama has snickered, winking playfully at his spluttering husband. "A year and a half you ditched the paperwork on Hashi so that you can rescue me."_

_Madara has gaped speechlessly for a few seconds before he directed his seething glare at the sheepish Minato._

_“You’re grounded,” he has growled to the future Hokage, much to Minato’s dismay._

_“But Grand-dad!”_

_“GROUNDED.”_

_“I’m an adult!” Minato wailed, collar still trapped in Tobirama’s grip. “And future Hokage.”_

_“And you still live under my roof,” Madara countered. “Grounded.”_

_Minato turned around to deploy his puppy-eyes technique on his favourite grandfather._

_“Grandpa!”_

_At the door, Kagami facepalmed, exhaling out a long-suffering sigh._

_“I’m too old for this,” the Sandaime grumbled, turning to bury his face on his Kage's shoulder. "Danzou, I want to retire."_

_Danzou patted his head placatingly. “Five more years, Kagami,” he said with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Five more years and then we can have our vacation.”_

_Kagami groaned in pure suffering._

Like the favourite perfectly loveable grandfather he was, Tobirama has saved Minato’s ass back then, stopping Madara from grounding him like a problem child that Minato was _not_. It’s not like his detour in Uzushio resulted in anything bad. His betrothal with Kushina has reinforced the bond of their two nations, moreover with the fact that their romance was triggered by their genuine interest on each other rather than the conditions of arranged marriage like the previous unions.

(And the punch. Kushina has such a wonderful punch. Minato’s heart was sold upon the first punch.)

Lady Mito just recently passed away, and her grandnephew was assassinated not a decade before the man’s only son was assigned into Minato’s genin team. They have been planning to have another political marriage between their nations and what union would be better than the marriage between future Yondaime Hokage and the princess of Uzushio?

Grand-dad and Uncle Kagami were being overdramatic, as usual.

Plus, Kagami has decided to reduce the minimum years for the Hokage’s term because of the sheer stress that Minato unintentionally inflicted on him during that one trip.

Which was an incredibly good thing because not everyone was like the Uchiha Demon, who has willingly suffered through a whole two decades leading the natural chaotic tendency of Konoha’s vibrant colourfully diverse shinobi.

Hell, even Granduncle Hashi has chosen to happily dump the job on his brother-in-law upon his twelfth years ruling. The two-decades minimum ruling years seemed _too_ much for such a stressful job, as proven with Kagami's rapidly greying hair. Ten years was such a reasonable minimum term before they started to discuss whether to extend the term of current rulers or elect new Hokage and Kage again.

No one has Uchiha Tobirama’s level of patience.

Nope. Not Minato. Not even his uncle, Orochimaru. The future Yondaime both have their interests directed to a more pleasurable endeavour involving a feisty red-head and a wolfish widower respectively.

It worked better for the Yondaime Hokage and Kage. Less greying hair and more chances to be with their families—or in his uncle’s case, to _make_ a new family.

How the hell Orochimaru gave Kakashi two little brothers that carried an eerie resemblance to the Snake Sannin and the White Fang was something that Minato didn't dare to ask, even to this day.

Which was the reason the impending passing of his grandfather was even more difficult to swallow.

Tobirama was the only one who didn’t struggle to accept the unnatural birth of Kakashi’s stepbrothers. Orochimaru and Sakumo have visited one day with baby Rogu in their embrace, explaining that this child was _their_ creations—as proven from the golden eyes of Orochimaru and Sakumo’s silver hair—and the aged Uchiha Demon didn’t even bat a lash.

Tobirama embraced the gurgling babe with genuine joy—like he didn’t care about the child’s origin at all—already cooing and promising infinite coddling that all children he claimed as his have received.

Such easy and genuine acceptance. No one else in Konoha could love so easily and deeply as Tobirama did.

His passing would be a bitter loss.

How would the new generations learn to love unconditionally without the old man’s example?

Minato wasn’t expecting Fugaku to give him the answer to that question.

“We’ll mourn him when the time comes,” the Uchiha Clan Head has said, swallowing his own drink, the curl of his lips was as rigid as his tensed jaw. “And we’ll carry his spirit and legacy forward.”

Shikaku hummed, thinking about his own son—about how the Nidaime’s legacy has already extended to his child’s generation—and his lips curled to a fierce smile, raising his cup to the air.

“To the Nidaime’s legacy.”

Minato raised his cup too, clinking the ceramic cup with his friends’.

“To the spirit of unconditional love,” he added mournfully. 

They drank to it.

 

* * *

 

Itachi and Shisui have the perfect stoic mask.

They stood upon the high podium, side-by-side as Hokage and Kage for one last time, their faces were a smooth identical expression of regal authority despite their breaking hearts and mourning souls. They were both Uchiha by blood—despite Shisui claiming the Tobirama name instead of his blood clan’s—and like all Uchiha, they loved so deeply and genuinely.

Call it instinct, a shinobi’s hunch— _anything—_ but they _knew_.

“It’s today isn’t it?” Shisui murmured under his breath, quirking a forced smile to return the proud gaze from the old man in the crowd. “And how fitting it is? Today is such a wonderful sunny day.”

If Itachi was annoyed with his dripping sarcasm, the Hokage has enough restraints to not roll his eyes at Shisui.

Instead, Itachi exhaled a deep breath, basking in what he _knew_ would be the last time he received such proud gaze from his great-granduncle.

“His gaze looks past us,” he murmured, voice soft and fearful. “He no longer sees _us_.”

Shisui’s chakra tensed, dark eyes switching to sharingan as his gaze fell upon the smiling legend among the crowd.

True to Itachi’s words, Tobirama’s gaze seemed far-fetched, like he was staring _through_ them to the stone face of Senju Madara’s statue on the cliff behind them. Longing. It was pure longing that raged inside those dark eyes. A deep want to return to his lover, and despite the pain that has already clenched his heart, Shisui has no heart to deny the old man’s desire.

Being the only relic of the past in their generation must have been tiring for the old man.

Shisui squeezed his eyes shut, throat bobbing as he swallowed the lump that rose up his windpipe with obvious difficulties.

Itachi wasn’t even surprised to see the changes in the pattern of his partner’s Mangekyou when those eyes flutter open again.

The Godaime Hokage might be shy to express his emotions while Shisui was too proud to act on his own feelings but they both loved that old man dearly.

It was Tobirama’s shoulders that hoist them up in the air when they were children who dreamt to reach the sky. It was Tobirama’s eyes that met Itachi’s gaze and saw his potential as future Hokage. It was Tobirama’s grin that met Shisui’s fierce smirk as the boy vowed to stand behind Itachi as his Kage. It was those aged hands that correct their stance and kata, helping them train when Fugaku was busy with the clan’s business and Kagami was nose-deep in the burden as the Sandaime.

It was Tobirama’s arms who held Shisui together when he lost his parents and Kagami has gone into a mad hunt for the Kiri's assassins that dared to orphan his grandson.

It was Tobirama’s chest that Itachi has cried on when the pressure of being a prodigy overwhelmed him and he was about to break under the stress of having to choose between duties and his beloved baby brother.

The old man meant a lot to both of them.

Thus, they stood side-by-side—Uchiha Izuna’s great-grandson and Tobirama Kagami’s grandson, _together_ , a strong symbol of the end of Uchiha’s internal feud—as Itachi placed the hat on Naruto’s head and Shisui wrapped the cloak over Shikamaru’s shoulders.

They wore their perfect mask, even when their red-tinted gaze caught the old man’s slow departure in the middle of Naruto’s speech. They resisted the urge to bolt and chase after the ancient demon, knowing that Tobirama wanted the privacy as the old man retreated to the regal statue that stood over the cliff that was a part of Konoha’s fortress. Their perfect mask didn’t crack even when they felt the fading of Tobirama’s chakra, sharingan activated the whole time because they were masochistic enough to remember this for their whole life.

Naruto and Shikamaru were bowing to their new subjects when there was a sudden surge of powerful chakra spread violently across Konoha. The ripples of that chakra were both familiar and strange—as no one in Konoha has ever felt Matatabi’s chakra in full power—but the implication of what just happened was there.

Itachi and Shisui squeezed their eyes shut, holding back the pricking tears behind their lids.

“What happened?!” Shikamaru shouted, voice muffled as his dark Kage cloak billowed against the powerful hot wind that raged past them.

Itachi opened his eyes, knowing that his fear has come true upon seeing the tears that fell down Naruto's cheeks.

Behind them, Matatabi howled in mournful sorrow.

Itachi gritted his teeth. 

If his partner noticed the change of his Mangekyou, Shisui didn’t mention it.

 

* * *

 

 “Does it hurt?”

The smile he received in response to that childish question was both indulgent and loving that Tobirama couldn’t help but quirked a tiny smile, eyes fluttering shut when Madara’s hand cupped his cheek.

The hand that curled against his cheek was solid and strong, prompting his smile to widen as he nuzzled to that warm palm.

He was close. So close to cross the barrier that separated them.

“Dying?” Madara’s voice was clear, a gentle chuckle that Tobirama greedily drank in. “Not at all,” he assured, thumb stroking the lines that ridged under Tobirama’s eyes. “It was like falling asleep in a lover’s embrace.”

There was a unison suffering groan somewhere in the background.        

“Ugh, sappy.” “I swear to Rikudou-sennin—”

Both of them were cut short when their respective wife reached out to their ears and _pulled_.

Tobirama snorted a laugh, his gaze darted curiously to where Izuna and Hashirama were standing—close enough to show that they were there for him, but far enough to give him and Madara the space they needed—before his gaze slipped past them where Touka and Jiro stood side-by-side, hands interlocked.

It was the first time Tobirama saw his elder brother as a man Jiro didn’t get to grow to.

Jiro quirked a smug smile, levelling his sharp gaze with Tobirama’s widened eyes.

"Everyone in the afterlife is in their prime age," the elder explained blandly.

“Thank fuck,” Touka murmured, leaning up to kiss Jiro’s cheek. “It felt weird to wanting to bone you when you were an Edo Tensei with a brat’s body.”

Madara spluttered, burrowing his glowing face to Tobirama’s chest. “Stop,” he whimpered, voice pitched to a whine. “I do not want to know that,” he lifted his head just slightly to glare at his unrepentant older cousin. “I really do not want to know that!”

“You walked in on us, once.”

“And I’m still traumatised!”

“It’s afterlife, baby cousin,” Touka hummed, the happiest Tobirama has ever seen the Senju kunoichi been. “No need to cling to our mortal’s shame and limits anymore.”

“I DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOU SCREWING MY BROTHER-IN-LAW, AFTERLIFE OR NOT.”

With that dramatic wail, Madara threw himself onto Tobirama, burying his face to the Uchiha’s chest just like when they were in their youth.

Tobirama chuckled, wonder filled his eyes when his hand slipped through Madara’s hair, feeling the silky texture of that dark hair between his fingers as if the ghost of his husband was really _there_ , crying to his chest over the shameless display that his cousin-in-law has shown. He looked up from Madara’s hair to the glowing ethereal forms of his family, wondering how he could be so lucky to gain the privilege of having his whole family to escort him to the afterlife.

What has he done to receive such honour?

They were _all_ here.

Hashirama and Mito. Izuna and Reiko. Touka and Jiro. His deceased little brother, Kakashi, whose adult form was a striking resemblance of the grandnephew that inherited his name. His descendants, Obito’s mother and Shisui’s father with their respective spouses. His other half-siblings and his stepmother, who were all dead by the time he re-joined the Uchiha clan.

They stood near the family he built in Konoha, close enough to show that they were there for him, but far enough to give him space with his oddly clingy husband.

He had to resist the fearful thrill upon noticing that his little brother was hunching conspiringly with his descendants as he belatedly remembered that Shisui’s dangerous sense of humour and Obito’s penchant for pranks came from their deceased parents.

Should he fear for horribly amusing pranks?

He stared again at the conspiring circle, now joined with his other half-siblings—much to his stepmother's amused smile—and decided that yes, even in the afterlife, he _should_ fear their horrible pranks.

Tobirama laughed at the thought, but his soft laughter hitched midway as his breathing shallowed out, his life inching near the end when the air shimmered and—

—the youthful ethereal forms of his parents glided from the thin air to sit next to him.

“My precious cub,” his mother hummed, leaning over Madara’s head to cup his wrinkled cheeks. “You aged so well, sweetheart.”

Tobirama smiled, breath hitching with many difficulties as he leant to her smooth palms.

“Ma,” he croaked, eyes fluttering close when Tajima leant to kiss his forehead. “Father.”

“We’re here, pup,” Tajima murmured, voice soothing and calm. “Everyone’s here.”

Yes. Everyone’s here.

Tobirama longed to join them.

And he would, moments from now, though there was someone else he needed to say goodbye to.

His heartbeats stuttered, skipping a beat as it slowed down.

Tobirama used the last of his energy to enter the bijuu plane.

**_“Tobirama.”_ **

Tobirama looked up to the massive cat, eyes apologetic despite knowing that Matatabi never blamed him for _this_. There was nothing that they could do. She could not turn him immortal, and she wouldn’t do that even if she _could_ because she knew how much Madara’s passing has dimmed the joyful light in his spirit.

They were partners for a long time, and though it may not be enough time for the bijuu, she accepted it with an open heart.

 _“Goodbye, old friend,_ ” Tobirama hummed, straightforward and genuine as he reached his hand to rub her fiery head. _“Thank you for everything_.”

 ** _“I’m going to miss you,”_** the bijuu murmured, nuzzling her fiery cheek to his frail body. **_“My favourite human.”_**

 _“You’re my favourite cat too, Tabi_ ,” Tobirama smiled, allowing himself to be smothered in her tails as he planted a kiss on the tip of her hot nose. _“Enjoy your freedom, my friend_.”

Matatabi gave him a mournful look before her mismatched eyes steeled with a strange determined gleam.

 ** _“Your legacy lives on, Tobi_** **,”** she purred, nipping on the top of his head. **_“Embrace your eternity in peace, my dear friend. You deserve it,”_** she huffed, nuzzling to him for one last time. **_“Farewell_.”**

She nudged him away as he felt a gentle pull that tugged him out.

Tobirama smiled at her. 

_“Farewell, Matatabi.”_

 

* * *

 

Kagami found his father’s still-warm body before his mind could even register the grieving bijuu that just disrupt the Rokudaime’s coronation.

And unlike the first time he lost the man, this time he was numb.

There was no hatred to fuel his rage, because this time, his father died in peace.

Uchiha Tobirama died curled up by the monument of his husband—the massive statue of Senju Madara that loomed over his corpse seemed like it was shielding him from the worst of Matatabi’s sorrow. Tobirama looked extremely peaceful, hands resting across the fading ink of his jinchuuriki seal, eyes closed without any lines of stress. He looked like he was asleep of all things, unlike the bloody scene the first time Kagami thought he has lost Tobirama for good.

Kagami felt numb, not knowing which emotion to show

He couldn’t be angry, because there was no trigger to fuel such rage from within him.

Konoha was at peace. It wasn’t enemy nin who has taken his father from him this time. The new Uchiha clan did not inherit the hatred that torment his beloved father decades ago. In fact, the world today saw Uchiha Tobirama and would smile at him, recognising him as a protective father rather than a violent demon.

Anger didn’t fit here at all.

Kagami wanted to cry and wail, but then he remembered the longing in his father’s eyes. He remembered hearing the whispered words that slipped past the man’s lips, words that wished for his death to embrace him soon so that he could be with his beloved and—

Kagami felt it would be rude to wail in denial when his father was so willing to embrace death.

Uchiha Tobirama passed away peacefully, embracing death like an old friend.

Denial grief didn’t fit too.

“Aniki!”

Kagami startled, shifting his gaze from the curl of his father’s frozen smile to the tears-stricken cheeks of his younger siblings.  They weren’t related to him by blood—much like almost everyone in the Tobirama Clan—but Tobirama has always considered Kagami as his eldest child, even when his own biological children were old enough to learn the truth about their Aniki’s parentage. Not that it mattered. These lots were still the clingy brats that spent their childhood following and worshipping Kagami’s footsteps like all younger siblings in the world that saw their elder sibling as their idol. 

Their worried gaze fell upon Tobirama’s body and Kagami saw the sorrow set in before the sound could leave their throats.

Old as they were, even with grandchildren of their own, they were still his baby siblings, and right now they needed their big brother.

Thus, Kagami let his lips curled to a soft smile, allowing the tears to fell freely even when he pulled them all into a soothing group hug.

“He’s with Dad now,” he assured.

 _He has returned to where he belonged,_ he left unspoken. 

His siblings understood that regardless.

 

* * *

 

“Dear, _please_.”

Orochimaru hissed, embracing the serpent-like qualities of his genetic as he lashed out to his partner, teeth bared and was close enough to be dripping with venom.

“This shouldn’t happen.”

Sakumo’s eyes softened, and he reached out so kindly even when Orochimaru hissed again and shied away from his reach. It didn’t stop the Hatake, though. Ignoring the dripping red blood from the crescent-shaped marks on his arm, Sakumo reached out and pulled the Snake Sannin into his embrace.

 _This shouldn’t happen_.

Orochimaru only realised that he was trembling so horribly when Sakumo’s hands slid down to wrap around his own, a steady grounding presence against his grieving trembling body.

“Lies,” the Snake Sannin rambled. “It was like back then all over again. There is no way he died,” he hissed, gravely voice pitched high and hoarse. “There is no way something so pitiful like old age would kill _the_ Uchiha Demon.”

“Dear…,” Sakumo sighed, removing one hand to rub Orochimaru’s shaking back. “He is old. Impossibly old.”

“This shouldn’t happen.”

Sakumo slid his hand up to tilt the youthful face of his husband. “It’s his time, dear.”

“He shouldn’t die like that,” Orochimaru denied, golden eyes shimmered with madness. “He is the Uchiha Demon. There is no way he would die just because of old age like all other human—”

“But he _is_ a human, isn’t he?” that flat deadpan cut his rant, and Orochimaru instantly swallowed the venom in his throat. “Or have you forgotten the kind human that raised you?”

The feminine voice was definitely not Sakumo’s, but its silencing effects worked all the same.

“Tsunade,” Orochimaru gritted out, burying his face against Sakumo’s chest as he felt the fire left him. Tired. He was so tired. “You’re back.”

“My granduncle died,” her voice was flat, emotionless even. Orochimaru heard she shuffled around his kitchen before there was a tattle-tale sound of a chair being pulled. “What kind of grandniece would I be if I didn’t return to give him my last farewell?”

Orochimaru didn't answer her, distracted with the three words that just slipped past her mouth.

_My granduncle died._

Uchiha Tobirama died of old age just like some other normal human.

Orochimaru refused to accept that. Tsunade must have been drinking again. Human? Ha! Uchiha Tobirama was not a human.

Humans were the horrid creatures that decided Orochimaru’s clan didn’t deserve to live on this Earth anymore just because they refused to join the alliance against Konoha. Humans were the two-faced creatures who looked at the traumatised child who just lost his whole clan with an odd, wary look, judging him for his looks rather than his values as a living being. Humans were the creatures who looked at him and saw a freak, who wanted to drive him out of their home just because his skin was too pale and his eyes resembled the deceitful snakes.

Uchiha Tobirama was none of that.

It was that old demon who hauled Orochimaru away from the mangled corpse of his parents straight into a soothing embrace. It was the Uchiha Demon’s words that kept Orochimaru together, assuring that everything would be fine and no one would hurt him anymore. It was the demon’s back that Orochimaru has clung to in that horrible night—as the legendary Uchiha didn’t even pause to reconsider, giving his trust freely to the child from a clan of deceitful snakes.

Orochimaru fell asleep in the Nidaime's embrace that night, strong arms wrapped around his trembling body, shielding him from the worst of his nightmare.

It was that demon who offered Orochimaru a home and a loving family.

No. Humans are horrible. Tobirama was not a human because—

—in Orochimaru’s eyes, his adoptive father was more of a god than these useless deities they built a shrine for.

He was not a human. Humans are cruel. Uchiha Tobirama was not.

And now he’s truly gone.

Orochimaru whimpered, burying his face into Sakumo’s chest, despite the nagging feeling at the back of his head warning him that he has forgotten something very important now that Tsunade was here.

Then, there was a loud noise as the door was thrown open and Orochimaru belatedly realised that if Tsunade returned then it was likely that—

“Yo, lovebirds~!”

Orochimaru’s groan was muffled by the rumbling laughter that erupted from Sakumo’s chest.

“Go away, Jiraiya,” the Snake Sannin grumbled, not even removing his face from the comfort of that warm chest. “You’re not welcomed.”

Jiraiya made a choked offended noise.

"This is our long-awaited reunion and you don’t even want to look at me?!”

“You give me a headache.”

Jiraiya laughed, loud and boisterous. “Why Sakumo, I didn’t know that you two are having another kid,” he teased, tone lecherous.

Jiraiya totally deserved that poisoned senbon Orochimaru just threw in his direction. 

(Though, in some way, Orochimaru felt a little bit lighter in the presence of his old friends.)

(But that maybe because Jiraiya and Tsunade combined were a force that drive Orochimaru up the wall with sheer frustration and annoyance.)                                                                

“Not at all, Jiraiya-sama,” Sakumo chuckled, hooking his chin over the dark sleek hair of his spouse. “Kakashi kept complaining for us to stop giving him little brothers that almost the same age as his kids.”

There was a pause as the Toad Sannin considered that.

“Mitsuki's doing good?” Jiraiya’s voice was a little bit solemn now, though Orochimaru softened a bit upon hearing the hidden fondness in those words.

Tsunade refused to get pregnant after all. So, Jiraiya has to adapt.

“Fitting in the academy, making friends better than his aniki—thank goodness. He is having a sleepover at Naruto’s now,” Sakumo hummed, pride dripped from his words. “Kid is sorely missing his godparents though.”

“We can stay a little bit longer after the funeral,” Tsunade hummed. “If you’d have us,” she added, but those words were more directed towards Sakumo than Orochimaru.

Sakumo was cheerfully giving his affirmative when Orochimaru snapped out of his grief long enough to register the Slug Princess’s words.

“What?” he hissed, turning around to give a disbelieving stare at his old friends. “Tsunade, you have your own compound.”

“Filled with brats calling me granny,” Tsunade snapped, crinkling her nose in annoyance. “No, thank you.”

“Plus, your son said that you have extra rooms,” Jiraiya added, cheerfully ignorant of Orochimaru’s darkening aura. “So, we thought we’d crash here throughout our stay. Closer to Mitsuki and all.”

Orochimaru was going to dissect Kakashi. Without anaesthetic. The brat totally deserved it.

“No,” Orochimaru hissed, pointing a finger at Jiraiya. “I’m not having this perverted ass under my roof—”

“Awww, shame. I was planning to start looking into the wonderful genre of homosexual romance.”

“ _Jiraiya._ ”

“Orochi-chi~”

_“You’re not going to use my sex life as your inspiration.”_

Orochimaru would have punched Jiraiya to make an emphasis of his point. But Tsunade was watching, and their lifelong friendship told him that the kunoichi was under the impression that after their sudden marriage, only she reserved the right to punch the light out of Jiraiya’s perverted head.

It’s not like Orochimaru fear Tsunade, but his son was going to Raikiri his lung if this house was destroyed again.

And Obito would not even stop him, the horrible son-in-law that brat was.

Punching the stupid husband of the Shodai’s granddaughter would be a one-way ticket of destroying the house, of which Orochimaru would rather avoid.

Thus, he grimaced and stalked towards Jiraiya, aiming to argue with his less violent old friend in his futile effort of preserving the privacy of his sex life.

Behind him, Sakumo tipped his head in silent gratitude towards Tsunade, as they both watched the bickering between a less sad Orochimaru and a perverted delightful Jiraiya. Tsunade nodded in acknowledgement, painted lips quirked in understanding. 

After all, old friends always make going through hard time easier.

 

* * *

 

Team Demon didn’t mourn for long.

Despite their bereft hearts and the tears that threatened to spill, Team Demon—Hiruzen, Danzou, Torifu, Koharu and Homura—has refused to crack. They loved their sensei dearly, yes, but they knew that there were lots of other people who deserved the long break to mourn and recover from his passing.

They would mourn him during their free time, but for now, they have job to do.

Uchiha Tobirama left behind a large legacy.

Hashirama was the one who built the foundation of the village, but it was Tobirama who shaped _Konoha_ to become as what it was now.

The remaining founder after the passing of his husband, the former Nidaime was hailed as the patriarch of Konoha. He was their father, the person they looked up to as a guidance and example and Tobirama took the honour with a graceful stride. He ingrained lessons into the citizens of Konoha.

Perhaps it was because of his past, or something else that didn’t slip into the academy textbook, but he taught them lessons of valuing family, of unconditional love to a fellow human and of loyalty to their home.

His lessons become the life principle of Konoha as every Konoha’s citizens—shinobi and civilian alike—has taken his lessons to their heart.

Team Demon made it their personal life mission to ensure that his legacy remained alive.

Hiruzen reached out to Shikamaru, already familiar with the boy ever since his own son was assigned as the Rokudaime Kage’s jounin sensei. He kept the young man afloat, already aware of his sensei’s friendship with the Nara’s heir, and he knew that Tobirama’s death has hit Shikamaru the exact way it would hit him if it was Chouji, Ino, Naruto or Gaara who died. Hiruzen offered the young Kage some comfort, and it didn’t take Shikamaru long to regain the fierce glaze in his eyes.

Danzou embraced Itachi and Shisui, taking over his former role as their mentor and offered his steely nerves to them as the emotional support they desperately needed. They were both Uchiha by blood, and Danzou has had first-hand experience witnessing a grieving Uchiha. He didn’t want a repeat of Kagami’s almost mad decline to insanity, thus he offered them all the comfort he could give. He wasn’t good with emotions, but neither did his apprentices, which oddly enough allowed them to open up and confided their grief with him.

Torifu soothed the mourning children of Konoha, wiping their tears with his aged hands and enlarged himself until he was large enough to embrace them all. He kept his sensei alive in their memories, spinning out tales of the Uchiha Demon’s youth, not forgetting to ingrain the lessons Tobirama has taught him into the tales. The future of Konoha wept upon his chest but the sharp determined glaze of their eyes told him that he has succeeded, that his effort to keep his sensei’s legacy alive was successful.

Homura and Koharu—both by now were a prominent fixture in the council—took the liberty of their positions to reach out to the Clan Heads, offering comfort and sage advice when necessary, ensuring that the leaders of the clans would not be the first that fell to grief. These leaders were now the examples for their future, and the married couple wished to have Tobirama’s legacy to continue living, even if it was not passed down by their sensei’s hands.

Team Demon loved their sensei greatly. 

Thus, they would fight teeth and bone to keep his legacy alive.

 

* * *

 

Tobirama left the bijuu plane and was tugged straight into Madara’s embrace.

He was a bit disoriented after the harsh tug that separated him from Matatabi, and it took him far longer than it should to notice that his hands were once again strong and young, fisting tight in the strange fabric of his husband’s kimono. Tobirama blinked, hands coming up to trace the smooth plane of his own cheeks with awe and wonder, before he heard the mournful howl of his old friend right behind him.

Madara stopped him from turning around with a searing fierce kiss, saving him from looking at his own corpse.

The kiss triggered something within him—the decade living without this man caught on him—and Tobirama growled, fingers fisting in the dark hair, tilting Madara’s willing head so that he could return the passion with the same fevered hunger. It was war all over again. Tobirama was on a warpath, taking charge with the kiss, all raw and obscene as he invaded Madara’s mouth, laying siege with his tongue and teeth, leaving burning lust in his wake. Madara surrendered, submitting thoroughly to the whims of his husband, fingers carding through the silver hair with desperate grip, never wanting the older man to stop—

Someone cleared their throat, followed by an amused snort and teasing snickers.

“I swear to Hashirama, you two are _worse_ than Touka and Jiro.”

Hashirama squeaked, not expecting for his name to be used like that.

Madara rolled his eyes, lips still brushing against his husband’s even when he slipped a hand away from Tobirama’s hair to give Izuna a very inappropriate gesture with his fingers.

Izuna squawked.

Madara ignored him.

“Shall we go?” he murmured to Tobirama’s lips, not really wanting to separate with his husband, and it showed through the sulky pout on his face.

He has been waiting for this moment for a full decade.

(Jiro was obviously lying when he said that the dead didn’t feel the passing of time. It felt like _an eternity_ for the Senju, waiting for his husband to join him.)

“To where?” Tobirama chuckled, amused above all. “Do we have good beds in the afterlife?” he purred, lacing his arms around Madara’s waist. “I miss you.”

Madara flushed to deep pink, lips parted open in a scandalised gape as he flailed in his husband’s hold.

“I meant the eternity, idiot!” he shrieked, eyes slipping past Tobirama’s ear to stare apologetically at—

Oh. His parents were there. Tajima was the one who did the not-so-subtle throat clearing earlier.

Tobirama decided to spare his easily-flustered husband from the embarrassment. 

For now.

He has eternity to make up for the loneliness he has suffered throughout his life after all.

And eternity to tease his lovely, adorable husband.

“Eternity it is, then,” he agreed, slipping his hand down to intertwine his fingers with Madara’s. “Lead the way, my love.”

If his hand skimmed oh so teasingly over Madara’s ass, it wasn’t his fault. 

He missed his husband, okay?

 

* * *

 

**OMAKE!**

“And that is why Kakashi is such a closet pervert. It’s in the DNA.”

“Oi.”

“Not you, brat. The _other_ Kakashi. The grandnephew that inherited your name.”

“Oh. The one who thought he was kissing his own nephew? _Bakashi_?” 

“Yep. That one.”

“If it’s that one, I have visited him a few times. Love the book that he always reads. Wish he reads a little slower though.”

“……”

“What?”

“Fuck.”

“What?!”

“Forget it. You’re a pervert too.”

“Izuna-nii!” 

“Don’t Izuna-nii me, you pervert!”

  

* * *

 

“This is what _peace_ has brought to our children?!”

Tajima calmly sipped on the honeyed wine of paradise, not even bothering to placate the baffled gaze of his companion. He already went through his share of surprise when Jiro finally returned—the thought that his beloved son ended up marrying the Senju that killed him has made him mad at first, but then he visited Tobirama during the spirit festival, and his anger simmered to nothingness.

Senju Madara treated his son right.

Heck, the Senju brat treated Tobirama far better than any Uchiha ever did.

Madara invoked that rare smile on Tobirama’s face oh so easily that Tajima found himself adoring his own killer, giving his silent blessing over their marriage, much to the smugness and amusement of both of his wives.

Didn’t stop him from using that whole _‘you killed me’_ thing to tease the Senju brat when he finally joined them here, though.

Madara was so easily flustered it was _painful_ to NOT tease him.

“Adorable, aren’t they?” he hummed, pouring more wine into his cup, gaze skittered past the infinite horizon of the heavenly grounds to where Madara and Tobirama were curled up to each other—the pair was completely oblivious to their fathers’ discussion as they shared gentle languid kisses in each other’s embrace. “What a lovely match.”

Butsuma flailed, spluttering in foaming disbelieving rage and Tajima casually cocked an eyebrow, now understanding from where Madara has inherited his sputtering.

“That son of mine killed you, Uchiha,” Butsuma growled, eyeing Tajima’s casual behaviour in disbelief.

“Well, my son beheaded _you_ , Senju,” Tajima countered. “So I’d say they’re even.”

Butsuma opened his mouth again, as if to protest, but then his gaze fell on the soft smile on Madara’s face and Tobirama’s equally indulging, loving smile and he _stopped_. The Senju’s face softened, and Tajima knew that his fellow father finally understood from where he was coming.

“They look so happy,” Butsuma murmured, eyes a bit dazed as he descended to sit next to his mortal enemy. “I have never seen my son smiles like that.

“Neither did I,” Tajima hummed, dark gaze softening upon landing on his silver-haired son. “There is no point to dwell on our past when we’re all dead, Butsuma,” he murmured, offering the wine to the Senju. “Your son makes mine happy. That is all the reason I need to embrace him into the family.”

Butsuma’s gaze skittered towards the couple, a tiny smile formed on his face when Madara leant up to pepper Tobirama’s face with kisses.

“I guess you’re right,” he agreed, accepting the offered cup with a tentative friendly smile. “They’re a good match.”

 

* * *

 

“I still want to tease your brat for beheading me, though.”

“Why, Senju, I think we could be best friends after all.”

“Huh?”

“I teased your brat for slicing my chest open too.”

“Huh. I might like you after all, Uchiha.”

“Likewise.”

                                                                

* * *

**_Meanwhile…._ **

“I’m murdering Tajima if he tried to tease Madara again. That poor child didn’t deserve to be flustered like that.”

“Tsubame, Tajima is already dead. We’re all very dead. And I thought you loved our husband so fiercely?”

“My pups come first, Nanami-san.”

“I’d murder Butsuma too if he dared to hold the beheading thing over Tobirama. My lovely son-in-law didn’t deserve that.”

“See? Tsunako gets it, Nanami-san.”

There was a delicate huff. 

“You two are so _dramatic_ , but count me in.”

 

* * *

 

“I like your mothers,” Mito hummed, eyes gleaming in sadistic glee.

“Me too,” Reiko chimed in, eyeing the trio of protective mothers with an awed glaze in her eyes. “It is great that we finally get to meet them.”

Hashirama and Izuna exchanged a similar terrified look before they slowly inched away from their wives.

Nope. That was the ultimate nope in all of the nope in history. 

 

* * *

 

“The asshole cat sure is attached.”

Jiro hummed in agreement, threading his fingers over Touka’s hair as they gazed upon the mortal world beneath them.

“She has a type, I see,” he mused, eyeing the girl that Matatabi has claimed as her new host.

“Overpowered silver-haired brat with ruby eyes?” Touka snorted, burying her face onto his lap. “Yep, that blue asshole cat had a type.”

Jiro frowned, defensive now. “Tobi is _not_ overpowered.”

Touka crinkled her nose, deadpanning flatly. “ _Tobi_ is an Uchiha, with legendary sharingan that needed to be passed down to the next generation because it is too powerful to be allowed to disappear," she hissed, slapping a hand over Jiro's mouth when the Uchiha was about to retort. "He is also part Hatake, who has naturally good sensory abilities, and might I add that Uchiha Tobirama also happened to be the strongest suiton user _and_ sensor in our history,” she huffed, burying her face on his lap again, this time her voice was muffled as she spoke; “and he created a good number of terrifying jutsu in shinobi’s history.”

Jiro gaped, loss at words to counter-argue.

Touka turned around to lie flat on her back, head on his lap so that she could meet his gaze.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that your baby brother is not overpowered and terrifying as hell, darling,” she hissed, painted lips curled to a smug smirk.

Jiro averted his gaze, admitting defeat to that argument.

  

* * *

 

“The girl is gonna be more terrifying than Tobirama, though.”

“Obviously.”

“Touka, I’m serious.”

“I know you are, darling.”

“Like, Rinne has four bloodlines from the major clans in Konoha, two ANBU as her fathers, Itachi and Shisui as her doting uncles, three totally besotted jinchuuriki among her ranks of godparents plus a terribly attached bijuu.”

Touka snorted. 

“May she have mercy on the shinobi world then.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love Shikamaru more than I can tolerate Sasuke. So, sorry for anyone who wants Sasuke as Naruto's partner.
> 
> This is brought to you by the asshole tendency of my muse. Blame him if this affect you negatively.


End file.
